


Mrs. Kenway

by SoulSong



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulSong/pseuds/SoulSong
Summary: It's the 1700s, and a woman like yourself, dressing as a man, doing the bloody work that you do, is simply outrageous. However, you have come too far, worked too hard, and are far too stubborn to simply yield to societal standards and expectations. Forget them! You've got some important work to do!There's quite a bit of French in this story, I promise to translate when I use it. If you notice any mistakes, that is because I'm using Google Translate. I do not speak French.I do not own Assassin's Creed or it's characters or storyline and I can change canon how I see fit. Changes to the canon are of my own design. I do take credit for the main protagonist, extra characters not found in the games, and their stories. Contact me if you wish to use either my characters or their stories. A special thanks to my sister for helping me iron out the details of this character.





	1. "Qui vivra verra."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He/she who lives, shall see."
> 
> -Unknown
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this guys. I know the last thing you wanted was a repost of chapter 1, but I promise I have good reason for it! I flushed out Ash’s backstory more & added a few more characters, not to mention I’ve finally got my version of the AC timeline down. So, I ask you to please read the new versions of these chapters cause the changes are important. I promise that chapter 4 will be out within the week.

I watch as the setting sun casts brilliant beams of red, yellow, orange, and pink across the city below. People run around in the streets, rushing off to who knows what who knows where. After a few minutes of admiring the view, I hear a soft knock at the door.

"Enter." I call over my shoulder, unwilling to tear my eyes away from this view. I hear the door open behind me and the voice of my boss, caring but commanding, falls over my ears "I have a job for you mademoiselle."

At this, the prospect of work, I tear my eyes away from the view outside my window to look at the man. He stands a head taller than me, with short, blonde hair framing an angular face with hazel colored eyes.

He's athletic, his daily workouts putting him in better shape than his own son (who is about my age and less than half his age). He carries himself with dignity, commanding respect and attention with every room he enters.

I give him my trademark 'tell me everything' look and he grins. "I need you to go chat with Monsieur Delerose. It would seem that he was the one who told us that warehouse was empty."

He flashes me a grin "Could you let him know how upset we are about it?" My face hardens at the thought of this man's arrogance and disregard for human life. "I will leave immediately." He beams at me, the look sinister with the conversation we're having "I knew I could count on you."

With that, I set out to the target's home. The streets are mostly empty in the cool November air. I easily climb to the second floor and position myself so I block the window with my entire body. As I face it, I make sure that my hands have a good strong grip on the house.

In one fluid motion, I push off the house with my feet, slap the insides of my boots together, releasing the small blades I have installed in the toes of the boots, and land back against the window.

I push the blades between the window and the windowsill, pulling up to pry it open, giving me access to the house. I slide through the window to silently stand in the room. I gently push the blades back into the toe of my boots as I look around. It appears that I have found the study.

The room contains a desk, bookshelves that line the walls, and three large chairs, one behind the desk, and two facing the desk on the other side. I silently pad through the room, careful to measure my steps so the small heel of my boots do not alert the resident to my presence.

I close the window before turning to the door. I open the door and check the hallway...all clear. So, I step out and close the door behind me with my back to the door so I can continue to keep an eye on the hallway.

The house is old and smells musty while I head for the bedrooms at the end of the hallway. My job here is to scare the ever-living-shit out of this guy but, aside from that and not killing him, I have full creative freedom here.

After a few tries, I finally find the master bedroom...and it's occupied. I see the target sitting at his desk near the bed. Seeing as how this is his first warning, I will only scare him. I am deathly silent as I enter the room and close the door behind me, gliding across the carpeting until I am directly behind him.

I draw out my spring-loaded knife, keeping it contained until needed. When he pushes his chair back, I flick out the blade and slide it in front of his neck, pushing his head against the back of the chair so he's forced to stay put or cut his own throat.

The man releases a strangled gasp but immediately stills at the feeling of the blade "W-who are-?" I push the knife into his skin a little, silencing him immediately. "Now that I have your attention, I come with a message."

The trembling man stiffens more, no doubt thinking of the possible message that could bring me here. "Our organization wishes for you to know that we do not appreciate you lying to us, especially given the consequences of such lies."

I let these words sink in as I slowly come around to stand in front of him, keeping my knife against his neck as I do. The man visibly swallows before speaking "Y-You're a-." The sweaty man doesn't get to finish his sentence.

"Oui." He almost seems to relax in his chair a bit, 'The nerve!' I slide the knife across his neck as he stiffens again and sharply inhaling through his nostrils. I can't help but chuckle coldly at the man's reactions.

I lean in until I am mere centimeters from his face "You do not honestly think you are safe do you?" The man visibly pales, and I don't blame him. He is not going to enjoy this at all. His friends are coming over tomorrow. They will surely lose their lunches at the sight of him.

I leave the man battered, bruised, and bleeding in several places. We still need him alive but this was his punishment for lying to us. While cutting down egos is exceedingly fun, I do not particularly care for the more messy aspects of the job.

Nevertheless, what is done is done and I am now free to return home and sleep. I tell Master Lacroix what happened and he dismisses me to bed with the promise of introducing me to an incoming guest from the British Rite tomorrow.

I wake to the warm light of the sun drifting through the window panes and onto my face. I stretch out completely, enjoying the pop and pull as each muscle is forced to release its overnight tension. The stretch leaves my muscles tingling such that I let out a content sigh in the early morning light.

I almost never stay at the headquarters, but I was too tired to go home last night. I doubt Papa-no, Mâitre Lacroix, went home either. I slide out of bed and prepare for the day. I dress in my usual attire, consisting of a white shirt, dark brown trousers, socks and shoes, a dark green coat, and a black tricorn.

Although the colors vary on a day-to-day basis, the ensemble remains largely unchanged. I fasten my gun holsters to my back under my coat, sliding my twin pistols inside. I then secure my sword and sheath to my hip, and finally slide my fan into an inside pocket of my coat. Finally ready for the day, I open my door and head down to breakfast.

At breakfast, I am greeted by a chorus of "Bonjour Sergeant!" making me roll my eyes at my ever insistent colleagues whom I wish would just simply use my first name. However, despite my disdain for such unnecessary formalities, greetings are not lost on me.

So, I give the men a sincere "Bonjour." as I join them at the table, helping myself to the delicious breakfast and tea selections. I am soon joined though by my partner in crime. "Bonjour, sister! Heard you had some fun last night."

I roll my eyes but return the greeting. "Bonjour, Adrien. Oui, I did." The boy gasps dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Without me?" I give him a pout, a hand gently resting on his bicep. "Oui."

Now it's his turn to pout. It has a strange way of changing his appearance dramatically. Many have described my brother as having very mature features, like his father, just with a slimmer frame, a runner's body. His dirty blonde hair always just a little messy. However, when he pouts, he looks downright submissive and childish.

Master Lacroix is not present at the table but the man sitting across the table informs me that he wishes to see me in his office once I am done eating. Knowing that he is waiting, I take care to keep up a steady, yet still reasonable, pace until I am satisfied while Adrien keeps up conversation.

I clean up my plate and teacup before heading off to Lacroix's office. I can hear voices through the door as I approach so I take the time to stop and knock. The permission comes as a crisp "Entrez."

I open the door, step inside, and close the door behind me. I can hear Master Lacroix's smile "Ah. Bonjour. Magnifique [magnificent] work last night." I smile and give a slight bow at the waist, my hands clasped behind my back as I do.

"Merci beaucoup Maître Lacroix. [Thank you very much Master Lacroix.]" He gives me his usual warm smile before turning to the only other person in the room. "Have you met Monsieur Kenway?" I straighten out and turn my own attention towards the gentleman.

He's wearing a navy blue coat, cream colored trousers, and matching socks, shoes, and cape. His dark hair is neatly tied back in a ponytail by a red ribbon and is covered by a black tricorn, and his deep brown eyes shine with intelligence and inner strength.

His posture is impeccable and his very presence demands so much attention that I am amazed I didn't notice him sooner. Perhaps his presence was drowned out by Lacroix's. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure." I say, not daring to tear my eyes away from those piercing orbs.

He and I extend our hands at the same time. "Ash Sargent." I make sure to give his hand a firm shake. Normally when I do this, I throw off whoever it is. This man, however, just smiles and shakes my hand back as if I were Master Lacroix.

"Haytham Kenway." My inner voice screams Damn! Though I'm not sure if it's because it didn't faze him, or something else... His voice is pleasant. Rich and smooth, like a fine wine, and his accent suggests a higher level of British society.

I have to force my brain to focus on something other than that voice. "You wanted to see me Grandmaster?" I say turning to Master Lacroix. The older gentleman has a mischievous look in his eye. He's plotting. Never a good sign. He clears his throat and nods "Oui. Monsieur Kenway was sent here from the British Rite."

I smirk "You have told me this already Maître." He throws me a playfully scolding look but does not comment on my cheekiness. "He is here to investigate an Assassin that fled to Paris after killing a Templar in his area. However, this is his first time in France so I would like you to help him."

This makes sense, I have been working here for my entire career as a Templar so I know at least ten different ways to get anywhere in Paris. I nod my head to give him both my consent and show my understanding of his decision. He would hear no arguments from me.

The Grandmaster turns to Haytham "Pardon Monsieur Kenway. Would you give us a moment? I need to have a word with le mademoiselle." Haytham gives a bow "Of course." Once the door shuts, Master Lacroix turns to me.

He has a kind smile on his face, his posture lax. He's slipped out of work mode. "He'll be staying with us Ash. I'll see you at dinner." I nod, hungry at the mere thought of mama's cooking.

In an instant, his shoulders slip backwards, his hands clasping in front of him on his desk as his smile turns devious. Work mode. Show this Brit how we do things here l'ange du diable [devil's angel]." I return his smile, just a hint of mischievousness in my eyes. "Bien sûr [of course]."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. "À bon chat, bon rat."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A good rat for a good cat." - meet one's match; tit for tat; an equal [in combat]
> 
> -Unknown
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the chapter 2 rewrite! Just in case this ever comes up, today is 6/28/2019. I updated chapter 1 a few minutes ago. I’m gonna post the chapter 3 rewrite in a few minutes. Enjoy & again, sorry for doing this.

~Haytham's P.O.V.~

When I first arrived in Paris, I was certain this would be a pointless endeavor. The city's winding streets and crowds turned what should have been a ten minute trip to the Templar headquarters into a thirty minute one.

By the time I reach my destination, I am tired and ready to leave this city. Sadly, that is not possible at the moment. I was sent here to catch John's killer and I fully intend to. They should be expecting me, assuming the letter we sent arrived. That should help things go more smoothly.

I show my ring to the man at the door and am showed inside. The building is warm compared to the relatively cool early morning air. Even in here, the building is mostly quiet, only a few muffled sounds indicate the presence of any life in the old house.

I am given a plate of food and a cup of tea. The man gives me a bow before leaving to find the Grandmaster. The Grandmaster is taller than me, with hazel eyes, blonde hair, and a kind face. I suspect that he might be old enough to be my father.

He gives me a broad smile "Bienvenue!" I give him a small smile as I stand and shake his hand "Thank you. Am I correct to assume that you are Grandmaster Lacroix?" He nods "Oui. I am Marquis Lacroix."

I shake his outstretched hand "Haytham Kenway. It is a pleasure to meet you sir. Master Birch had nothing but praise for you." He smiles as I pull out the letter Birch wrote.

Master Lacroix takes it and tells me to finish eating then to meet him in his office when I am done. He walks away before I can ask where his office is. Wonderful.

Thankfully, when I finish eating, a young maid enters to clean my plate. She is kind enough to tell me where Master Lacroix's office is. Apparently, this is not the first time he has neglected to provide such basic, yet crucial, information.

I knock on the office door and it is quickly opened. Master Lacroix ushers me inside and asks me to tell him what happened from the beginning. I explain to him how my fellow Templar, John, and I were on our way to our headquarters one morning when an Assassin dropped from a roof and killed him.

Another tried to get me but jumped too far out, narrowly missing me. While I fought my assailant, the other Assassin apparently robbed John of the papers he was delivering to Birch. I managed to kill my assailant, but I could not save John nor could I catch the thief.

That was about a week ago. We learned that he was in Paris from an ally. I was sent to collect these papers. He nods. My story matches the one the letter tells. Apparently he was just testing to ensure that I was indeed the Templar he had been told was coming.

He starts looking through some papers "I will be assigning you a partner from my organization to guide you through the Parisian streets and to help you complete your assignment." I give a small nod/bow "Thank you sir. I appreciate it."

He waves it off as he looks around his office "Sargent is one of my best." "Really? How long has he been working for you?" "Almost ten years. My own protégé. Though there is something you should know." He doesn't get to tell me as there is a knock at the door.

"Entrez." He calls out. In strides a young man. His long auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail beneath a black tricorn. His blue-green eyes are sharp as they take in the room. I can see a sword strapped to his side but no other visible weapons. Actually, there is something very odd about this man but I cannot quite place it.

Master Lacroix smiles "Ah. Bonjour. Magnifique work last night." The guest smiles and gives him a slight bow at the waist, hands clasped behind his back. "Merci beaucoup Maître Lacroix."

That's when I stop. That voice...is distinctly not male. When I take another look at the Templar, I can see how I would mistake this woman for a man. She is dressed in trousers, boots, a shirt and a coat. Men's clothes.

Her back is straight, and her chin is held high though, which makes me think she has been wearing these clothes for a long time and is prepared to fight anyone who questions her. Master Lacroix gives her a warm smile before turning to me. "Have you met Monsieur Kenway?"

She straightens her posture even more, though I didn't think it were possible, and turns towards me. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure." She says, not breaking eye contact as she and I extend our hands at the same time.

"Ash Sargent." So, she is be my guide and partner in this endeavor...intriguing. She gives my hand a firm shake. "Haytham Kenway." I reply.

Now that I have noticed my mistake, I am noticing more and more details. Her eyes are not only sharp, but gleaming with intelligence, and her clothes are big enough to hide any size chest. The tricorn makes it difficult to get a clear view of her face as well.

"You wanted to see me Grandmaster?" She says turning to Master Lacroix. Her voice, while tinged with a Parisian accent, is not entirely French. If I had to guess, I would estimate that she is from England, though she is clearly fluent in French.

The man clears his throat and nods "Oui. Monsieur Kenway was sent here from the British Rite." She smirks, her voice taking on a teasing tone, making the British accent more clear. "You have told me this already Maître."

He throws her a half-hearted scolding look. "He is here to investigate an Assassin that fled to Paris after killing a fellow Templar in his area. However, this is his first time in Paris so I would like you to help him."

She nods and the Grandmaster turns to me "Pardon (excuse me) Monsieur Kenway. Would you give us a moment? I need to have a word with le mademoiselle (the lady)." I give him a bow "Of course." With that, I turn and leave them alone in the room.

Now alone in the hallway with nothing but my thoughts, I cannot help but wonder why I find her so intriguing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	3. "On n'est point toujours une bête pour l'avoir été quelquefois."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Being a fool sometimes does not make one a fool all the time."
> 
> Denis Diderot
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter 3! As promised! Again, rereading these IS important for the story. Again, sorry for the confusion and; reposting old chapters.

I step out of Master Lacroix's office after we talk for a few more minutes on what he expects me to do. I smile when I see Haytham talking to a child I know very well. Two of our members got married several years ago and this little bundle of energy is the result.

"Alexandrie, where is your father?" The little girl shuffles a bit but points down the stairs. "Does he know you are up here?" She shakes her head and I giggle. I ignore Haytham for now though to nod my head down the stairs.

"Go to your father Alexandrie." She nods and obeys. Haytham looks between me and the girl. He looks very confused, though I cannot imagine why. "Something on your mind Monsieur Kenway?" He clears his throat "Who are her parents?"

I smile "Her father is our doctor, Victor Grosse, and her mother is our housekeeper, Marionette." He nods and-...is that relief? Unfortunately, it is gone before I can be sure. So, I toss aside the thought and smile "Come now Monsieur Kenway. I have much to show you and limited daylight with which to do it."

"I can imagine. After you." I chuckle "Naturally. Only a fool would let you lead the tour." I show him the landmarks and well-known streets as I try to teach him how to navigate Paris like a native. Our conversation is dominated by my tips, directions, and facts as we weave through the ancient streets.

Hours pass and soon, the sun is directly overhead, indicating that it is about midday now. I turn to Haytham but startle when I see that he is right there. Wow. He is quiet when he wants to be...and fast too.

Since he is so close, our height difference is painfully obvious by how much I have to crane my neck to look at him in the eye. At this distance, or lack thereof, I can actually smell the man. It is a spicy smell that has a hint of...cedarwood maybe.

There is another underlying smell to it that I cannot quite place. Do all guys smell like this? Then, it hits me, I have never been so close to a man, much less one so close to my own age. Well, aside from Adrien and papa, but I don't count them. I am suddenly very uncomfortable with being so close to the man so I back up a little.

"Oh. Um. It is getting close to midday now. Do you want to stop for some lunch?" He takes a minute to think it over, probably focusing on his stomach to determine if he is hungry enough for lunch yet. After a bit of silence, he turns to me with a small smile.

"That sounds delightful. Am I correct to assume that you know of a few good places?" There is that beautiful, rich, pristine accent of his. I've heard that accent a million times in my life, but his voice makes it sound amazing. I mentally slap myself before wracking my brain for ideas.

I hum a bit to let Haytham know that I heard him and I am thinking. I quickly remember a nearby cafe with typical Parisian food, a good choice for someone who has yet to try any. I smile and start walking off in the direction of the cafe. I hear Haytham behind me.

"Miss Sergeant, where are you going?" I roll my eyes at the formalities but I also cannot help but giggle at his confusion "To lunch of course. I know just the place." I hear him huff and mutter something behind me and it sounds like he is several paces behind me.

However, I am hungry and the sooner we get there, the sooner we can eat. So I stop, grab his hand, and pull him along behind me so he will stop dragging his feet. I hear him stumble over his words a bit but I just smile to myself.

"I, for one, am hungry and would very much enjoy eating as soon as possible. But since I cannot simply leave you to your devices monsieur (sir), you will simply need to pick up the pace." I purposefully state this matter-of-factly to tease him a bit.

In the few hours I have known him, he has proven himself to be quite intelligent and poised. He seems to hold everyone to rather high standards, but he holds himself to even higher ones. Suddenly, I feel a sharp tug on my arm, pulling me from my thoughts.

I stop and turn to see that Haytham has planted his feet and, while I could move him, that would be far too much effort for the payoff. So, instead, I release his hand and drop my hands to my hips, shifting my weight onto one hip in a huff "Something wrong Haytham?"

For the first time since I have met him, Haytham chuckles. It is a deep, rich, baritone sound that makes my stomach flip. I maintain my composure despite the things he is doing to me internally and even manage to cock an eyebrow at him.

He flashes me a warm, relaxed smile before striding up to me and looping my right hand in the crook of his left elbow and begins walking again. His bicep is warm, large, and firm, and no doubt pure muscle under his coat.

It takes my brain a moment to catch up before I move to pull my arm from his, but he stops me by placing his free hand on top of mine, holding it in place. "Now is this truly so terrible?" I roll my eyes at him, not answering. He continues regardless.

"In the few hours I have known you Miss Sergeant, you have proven that you dislike being treated like a lady. I hold no illusions about that. But, you could at least indulge me until we reach our destination, could you not?" I honestly do not have an answer to that.

I have never had a problem with this position aside from the fact that it is so intimate and I only met him this morning. However, he has been nothing but polite so I suppose I can humor him. That does not mean I cannot get him to do something for me though.

I over exaggerate my sigh before I reply "If you are going to insist, then I suppose there is no harm in humoring you. However...I do have a request of you in return..." I glance up to check on him and see that I have his undivided attention. Good. I think.

"I would appreciate it if you could please drop the formalities when addressing me. No more of this Miss Sergeant business. Ash will do just fine. We are close enough in age that we ought to be using our first names anyway." He seems a bit taken aback so I give him an encouraging smile. One that he returns before giving my hand a squeeze and releasing it.

"You drive a hard bargain...but one that I am willing to accept. However, I do believe in a fair exchange, so, in return, I would like you to allow me to be a proper gentleman around you."

I make a (somewhat) disgusted face and he smiles "I will refrain from doing things that make you uncomfortable, but this is who I am so it would help if you met me halfway my dear. Do we have an accord?" He extends his free hand to me. I hesitate, but eventually take it in mine, giving it a firm shake.

"We do. Come now. This has wasted even more time and energy than I would have liked, and it has left me hungrier than I already was." We both chuckle and I gently take the lead to the café. We enjoy the food and atmosphere as we chat about our lives as Templars.

At one point, I venture a guess as to where in England he's from. His eyes widen "Very good Ash." I grin. "Let me see..." He thinks for a moment, almost studying me. "You speak perfect French and your voice has a hint of a Parisian accent, but your name indicates British heritage."

I do not give him any signs of how his words are affecting me. He ventures a guess at where I am from and I giggle. "What?" I shake my head "Not even Master Lacroix knows where I am from Haytham. That was a very good try though."

He raises an eyebrow at me "Oh? Surely you have told someone." I shake my head and wave my hand as though waving away a fly "It matters not where I come from Haytham. Only where I am going."

He nods. The look in his eyes is that of a man deep in thought. He mutters "Indeed." He grins "Well, as much as it does not matter to you, I, for one, am quite curious. I hope one day you will trust me enough to tell me."

"Perhaps one day I shall...but today is not that day." I hand the server money for lunch plus tip and stand, picking up my tricorn, which I had taken off for lunch. The look of betrayal I get from Haytham for not letting him pay is downright cute and I make sure to flash him a grin and a wink.

"Come now Haytham. It is time to see how much you remember from earlier." "God help us all." he says sarcastically. I giggle "You, will be leading us to Notre Dame. There, I will take you to your next lesson of navigating Paris." He nods "Very well. I do hope we are not on a schedule." I chuckle "It is a good thing we are not."

It takes him 30 minutes and four wrong turns but we finally make it to Notre Dame. I never made fun of him nor laughed at him throughout the process. He is a fast learner. The mistakes he made were understandable and somewhat expected. He never made the same mistake twice though which is good.

I smile "Well done Haytham. Come. It is time I show you my favorite thing about Paris." He raises an eyebrow in a questioning and curious look, but otherwise remains silent. I motion with my head "Follow me." I take my time explaining the importance of Notre Dame on the way.

When we reach a narrow alleyway, I stop him ⅔ of the way in. I turn to the left wall. I smile at him as I show him the indentation in the wall. It is shaped like the Templar cross, but it's at an angle. I hook my fingers into the grooves and turn it 12 degrees to the right, correcting the cross's orientation.

I then push on the wall, revealing that it's fake. The wall turns to reveal the tunnel beyond. Haytham's face screams disbelief and wonder. I grin and pull him in, pushing the wall back into place behind us.

I pull out a matchbox and light a match, lighting the torch I know to be on the wall to the right. I remove the torch and smile at Haytham "The torch is for your benefit. All of us have memorized the layout already."

Haytham nods, looking around. The light only shines for maybe 1.5 meters in front of us. Haytham holds out his hand "Here, I am taller so the light will shine over more if I hold it." I cannot argue with logic so I shrug and hand him the torch.

We get maybe 3 meters before we round the first corner and Haytham yells in surprise. He takes several steps back, a hand on his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Me? My laughs are echoing in the empty tunnels.

Haytham looks between me and the skeleton he just walked into. I grin "Bienvenue (Welcome) Haytham...to the catacombs." I say, dropping my voice to an eerie depth. He swings the torch around slowly, allowing him to properly view all of the skeletons.

He takes a deep breath "Well...I can honestly say that I was not expecting this." He suddenly thinks of something and whirls around to face me, disbelief written all over his face. "This is your favorite thing about Paris?"

I am still giggling as I nod 'The catacombs stretch for kilometers beneath the city. It is the best way to get around the city quickly, quietly, and unseen." It takes him a moment to nod in understanding.

We spend several hours exploring the catacombs. I show him several places where he can return to the surface and answer what questions I can. By the time we finish our exploration, I feel like I have finally made a friend of Haytham.

Sure most of the other guys in the French Rite are nice, but they do not quite get me like Haytham does. I finally have someone who has a comparable intellect to my own.

Not that the rest of them are not intelligent, but they have never bothered to seriously debate with me about life, philosophy, alcohol, or weapon choices. Haytham on the other hand is more than willing to indulge me in what can, and has, become hours of healthy debate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
